


In Which

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: A RELATIONSHIP WON'T FIX YOU BUT LOVE FROM SOMEONE WHO CARES DEFINITELY HELPS, Inappropriately Soft, Introspection, Other, and thinking of blood, but it doesnt get outside of anyone, i havent even finished the game, very minor spoilers for at least nicks quest but thats about it, warnings for pov character not really thinking of himself as a person at times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He feels their smile in the fingers tangled up in his, and he smiles back, pressed into their neck. They squeeze his hand, smoothing their thumbs over his mismatched palms. A nice metaphor would be it was hard to tell where one of them started and the other began. A truth would be he could always feel the disconnect between their warm, soft skin, and the numb plastic covering of his. A lie would be he really cared for the difference anymore.He wonders if the real Nick Valentine ever had this with Jennifer. He already knows.
Relationships: Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	In Which

**Author's Note:**

> Listen,, I'm too soft. This is soft. Final warning for softness bro
> 
> BTW if I messed up the formatting pls tell me I'm new

Nick smoothed his hand over theirs, feeling the bumps and creases of veins peeking through tough, worn skin. Their palm was warm, and he could just feel the weight of their fingers on his knuckles. Scar tissue, calluses, and textures too small for the pressure sensitive nervous system he was built with to feel. Like a well-read, dog eared book with stains and buckling paper. Loved enough to show it. 

His fake, rubbery skin sliding across new and old scratches, catching on knuckles and joints, old scars deep enough for him to feel. Approximate feeling. This hand can feel the wear of their skin, comes the closest to remembering how it felt for the real Nick. 

He stretched his other hand, equally caught up in a gentle embrace. The naked metal and sharp joints far from stainless, but too inorganic to catch anything more than scratches. He can't feel the texture of skin, or the wrinkles of their palm. He still caresses their hand as gently as he can, the clicking joints always at risk of snapping at their fingers and catching. 

They sigh softly, and he can only just feel their breath. He hums softly, almost inaudibly, the closest he can come to returning it. 

He leans into their neck, feeling the beat of rushing liquid. It was off-putting at first, since he didn't have the opportunity of touch quite so often. Ellie's high-fives for a case well-done, Diamond City kids fresh out of school tugging on his coat as they rush by, family and friends of people he's found grabbing his hand and gratefully shaking it before pulling away quickly, unnerved. 

He may not need touch like real people do, but a rare thing freely given is something precious. The steady pump of blood was an extra benefit, proof of life. He knows his wrists are warm only from moving parts. He knows his plastic skin is only heated by the person leaning on it. He relishes the contact because of the person its coming from, but he can't see the appeal in touching his fake skin with real hands. 

He feels their smile in the fingers tangled up in his, and he smiles back, pressed into their neck. They squeeze his hand, smoothing their thumbs over his mismatched palms. A nice metaphor would be it was hard to tell where one of them started and the other began. A truth would be he could always feel the disconnect between their warm, soft skin, and the numb plastic covering of his. A lie would be he really cared for the difference anymore. 

He wonders if the real Nick Valentine ever had this with Jennifer. He already knows. 

He asked them, once, when they were only starting out with this thing between them, why they would want this. Him. 

They took his hands, both of them, all of him, and said they didn't understand why they wouldn't. 

He said, I'm not human.

They said, you don't have to be. 

He knows he's not human, that he was, but he never was. He doesn't pretend, and neither do they. Most days, he's just Nick Valentine, synth detective. More days now than he's used to, he's a person, too. Or at least he feels like one, and that's close enough for anyone. 

The old Nick had his turn, he thinks. 

All the goodness he can put in the world, that's his. All of the goodness he's lucky enough to keep, that's his too. 

He wonders if the real Nick Valentine ever had this with Jennifer. He doesn't really care.


End file.
